I’m a gay man who raised a boy with my gay partner. Our foster son was not a reader, but he fell in love with the Harry Potter novels and devoured them. Our family even joined long lines a couple times waiting for first copies at a bookstore.
The boy we raised was overcoming a lot of pretty serious obstacles. His early life was more than just a little troubling. He had a very hard time accepting his self-worth and even sometimes finding the strength to just keep going.
Something about that series of novels helped him find a sense of joy, perseverance, and courage.
I realized they are just stories, but stories are powerful. We are in a sense, all of us, the sum of the stories we tell ourselves.
I’m glad my son found the Harry Potter stories. They mattered to him and they helped him. I revile JK Rowling fiercely and passionately. I think she is as despicable as any of the monsters she wrote into her tales. But I love the stories she wrote, and I can do both at the same time.